A journal of my thoughts when I see a guy who has the same backpack as me

Oh, wow, neat! That guy and I have the same backpack. I guess I need to be careful where we both sit so I don’t accidentally grab his backpack when I’m leaving. I wouldn’t want this to be the start of some international espionage movie-type situation where I’m accidentally mistaken for a spy and get chased around because of a mishap. I have neither the charm, fighting ability, or cleverness to get out of that type of situation. You need at least one, preferably all three of those to handle something like that. You need to be a real Will Smith.

Isn’t is strange? Two guys, same backpack. Of all the backpacks in all the world, the two of us would buy the same backpack and come to the same coffee shop in the same neighborhood on the same day. I wonder what kind of drink he’s getting. Should I ask him? Should I gesture to my backpack and make the international face for “hey, same backpack!” He’ll know what it means. Then I can say “Weird! You’re not also getting a dark roast with a little bit but not too much oat milk sorry for being crass but I want it the color of puppy poop — which isn’t all that crass it’s just a puppy everybody loves puppies and their poop isn’t all that gross and also I can’t think of anything else that is that same color — are you?” That would be crazy! But what if he is ordering the exact same drink in the exact same way in the exact same coffee shop in the exact same neighborhood on the exact same day with the exact same bag? Should I ask him? I should ask him. He’ll think I’m nuts! I shouldn’t ask him. I should sit down. I’ve been staring at him for too long.

I guess it’s not that crazy. It’s not exactly a custom or designer backpack. It’s not at all rare or special. I just went to Amazon (side note, stop shopping on Amazon) and searched for “backpack” and then picked the most normal-looking one on the first page of search results. That’s probably what that guy did too. Pretty normal stuff. I get too excited too easily.

Oh fuck am I boring? Am I just like the backpack? Am I not at all rare or special?

No offense to that guy but after looking at him for way too long he seems like kind of a zero. He hasn’t done anything cool the whole time he has been here. He just ordered a coffee and sat down and got out his laptop. Now he’s just sitting there looking at it. He’s not typing, his eyes aren’t even scanning back and forth like he’s reading anything. Just a dead stare into his computer screen. That’s weird, right? That’s a weird thing to do. What is he even looking at like that? Is he watching a video?

I’m not like that guy, am I? I’m not a boring zero, right? Shit. OK, think. Think of something cool about yourself.

Fuck.

What’s interesting about me?

I can’t think of anything. I’m putting too much pressure on myself. I bet I could think of something interesting about me if I wasn’t trying to. Like how I know a bunch of movies I want to watch but then when the remote is in my hand I have no fucking clue what I want to watch. Maybe that’s what that guy is doing staring at his screen right now. Maybe he’s trying to figure out what he wants to watch and he’s paralyzed by choice. Maybe I’m not like him, maybe he’s like me. Is that better? Is it the same? Is it worse?

Maybe I should get some patches for my backpack. That would make it different from all the other Amazon first page of the search results grey standard normal utility basic backpacks. I’d know it was mine. But what do I get? What kind of symbol should I put on my backpack to represent me and who I am and how I’m different from everybody else? A band? What band though? Oh no I just did that thing where somebody asks you what kind of music you like and you blank because you kinda like all music and will listen to anything at least once to try it but saying that out loud to another person is the most boring thing you can say so you want to say something specific and cool but not look like you’re trying too hard to be specific or cool and now you really can’t think of anything at all and you also don’t want to be the type of guy who says “anything but country” because you don’t like to define yourself by what you don’t like so you have no idea what to say and now you’re just in a deep dark hole internally but on the outside in reality you’re standing there just staring at somebody who could have been a friend but now just thinks you’re a weirdo. But you did that to yourself. How does that even happen?

It’s just a backpack, Aaron. It’s just a tool you use to carry around the stuff you need for the day. It doesn’t really say all that much about you. Take a deep breath.

Should I get a tattoo?